


Gentle Whispers in the Night

by inkjoy



Series: The Note [3]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Again, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Communication, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Juno needs a hug, Other, Peter Nureyev being really in love, and he gets one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 16:03:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21376798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkjoy/pseuds/inkjoy
Summary: Just because he and Nureyev have sorted out their feelings and are willing to try again doesn't mean Juno doesn't still have bad days when the voices in his head get a little too loud. The difference is, he doesn't have to deal with them alone anymore.'“No,” Juno choked out, “can you just… talk?”“Talk?” Nureyev asked, “About what, dear?”“Anything. Please, anything.” Juno begged.'
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Series: The Note [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1530413
Comments: 11
Kudos: 212





	Gentle Whispers in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Back at it again with updating this series in the midst of Nano and exams. I have no self-control.

It had been two weeks since Nureyev had left Mars behind.

He couldn’t stay forever after all. He was the kind of man that was made for bigger things than the small patch of dirt Hyperion city occupied. The thief could only stay so long before his hands itched to reach into the pocket of unsuspecting strangers and he began eyeing museums with alarmingly considerate glances. They had spent one glorious month together, lost in a haze of enjoying simply being in each-others presence. The lingering touches and soft smiles without expectation or reason, just the simple pleasure of knowing the person you care for is right there in front of you and cares for you in return.

They had spent the time getting to know the other without the threat of death hanging over their heads. Juno knew Rex Glass, and he knew Duke Rose, and now he had the chance to get to know Peter Nureyev, and Peter had the chance to let someone.

Juno had decided to take a week off cases and in a typical twist of events had promptly stumbled into one, but the adrenaline of racing down streets was exhilarating; leaping over trashcans only to stumble over a curb and have Nureyev sweep him into his arms before he could hit the pavement.

“Thanks,” He’d said, looking up at his saviour, chest heaving.

Nureyev had ducked down and kissed his cheek, “No problem, detective, now if I might suggest continuing to chase down the criminal currently getting away?”

The case had ended with Juno aiming his blaster at the criminal and the shot going wide, and the cold stab of self-disgust filling him for a moment. But before he could despair over letting him get away for more than a few seconds, Nureyev flicked his wrist and a throwing knife went flying through the air and embedded into the criminal’s back. The man screamed and fell hard onto the pavement.

Juno had blinked, “you can throw knives?”

“Of course, I can, darling.” Nureyev calmly strode up the man and yanked the knife in question out, wrapping it in a handkerchief that was suddenly in his hand and tucking it away from where ever it had come from.

“Are you going to do something about him?” Nureyev kicked the groaning body in front of them with the tip of his foot, like he hadn’t just taken the man out from thirty feet away with an accuracy that most people would weep at.

Juno looked between Nureyev and the man and back again, “Yeah, um, yeah okay.” And that was that.

Mostly though, they did all the little things that neither of them had had much experience in before. Getting coffee in quaint little coffeeshops and then promptly being kicked out after a poorly-timed comment from Nureyev had Juno snorting coffee from his nose and spluttering. Walks through the streets hand in hand, Nureyev looking down at him with those galaxy-filled eyes, squeezing gently at their intertwined fingers. Nights spent curled up on the couch, watching some trashy stream that Rita had recommended to Juno that wasn’t nearly as fascinating as the small secrets whispered between them.

There were so many things about Nureyev he was learning that he never would have guessed, and a few he would have. He liked apricots but despised corn. He always tipped waiters at restaurants when paying but had an unfortunate tendency to pick pocket the other customers. He could pick a lock in five seconds flat but couldn’t read clocks when he was tired. He used about a dozen different products for his hair and skin that Juno couldn’t even attempt to understand despite his valiant attempts to teach Juno his ways. He was a million little stars that came together in an ever-changing constellation.

This was what Juno was thinking about as he lay in his bed, the emptiness beside him feeling like a gaping wound despite the fact he was far more used to sleeping alone than with the warmth of a body beside him. It was a bad night. He stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep. He had missed again today; failed his client; failed at being a private detective. And god, if he couldn’t even do his damn job, what good was he?

The depressive moods had mostly been held at bay during Nureyev’s visit. It was easy to forget all of his doubts and worries around the thief, as if he took up so much space in Juno’s head, there wasn’t room for anything else.

He wanted to call Nureyev. To listen to him talk about his day or recall some fond memory and let the soothing noise filter through his mind and calm it for the first time all day. But he couldn’t.

Nureyev did his best to keep the more criminal details away from Juno and his unrelenting stance on justice – Nureyev’s words, not his. He could read between the lines though, and he knew the man was performing a heist in just a few hours. Juno didn’t want to call him with something so trivial as a few bad thoughts and risk distracting him. It’d be one fuck-up too many for him to take.

As he lay there, chest aching and desperate for something, _anything_, to distract him, his coms beeped. A call. Juno nearly ignored it on instinct, but if it was Rita and he didn’t answer, there would likely be a knock on his door within the hour. And as wonderful as she was, her particular brand of enthusiasm and overwhelmingly positive attitude would only make him feel worse.

With great reluctance, he picked up. “Rita, I told you I’m fine.” He said without waiting for her to speak.

“Well, detective, that makes me think that you are rather the opposite.”

An embarrassing noise startled itself from his throat, “Nureyev?” he rasped out.

He could picture the soft smile on Nureyev’s face when he replied, “Hello Juno, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” he lied, “Why did you call? I mean, I just thought you were busy.”

“Never too busy for you, dearest.”

Much to his mortification, the messy emotions in his chest seemed to have reached their limit, and he felt tears building behind his eyes. He pressed a hand against his face, as if he could force them back through the pressure alone. The traitorous tears spilled out anyway.

“Juno?”

A tiny sob tore from his throat.

“Juno, talk to me. Are you okay?” Nureyev sounded concerned.

He wanted so bad to be able to tell him that yes, he was fine, yet the words wouldn’t leave his throat. It was if he had been able to hold back the tide all day, yet the second he heard Nureyev’s voice everything was suddenly far too real, too close, and the man was too far away.

“I’m –“ Juno tried but another sob slipped from his throat. His breath hitched, and he struggled to take in breaths.

“Are you physically hurt?” Nureyev pressed. There was a hint of panic in his tone, a wariness from Juno’s past record that didn’t give him much assurance of the detective’s well-being.

Juno made the vague approximation of dissent.

“Okay, good. A bad day then I’m guessing, did the case you were on not end well?” Nureyev said, and Juno cried a little harder, “Ah. I… I’m sorry, I don’t know how to help you from here,” he sounded upset, “Should I contact Rita?”

“_No_,” Juno choked out, “can you just… talk?”

“Talk?” Nureyev asked, “About what, dear?”

“Anything. Please, anything.” Juno begged.

“Of course,” Nureyev reassured him. He cleared his throat, and Juno waited in anticipation, tears steadily dripping down his face and soaking into the pillow, “Let’s see, oh, I was talking to this market store owner today and he had the most dreadful haircut, Juno, you wouldn’t believe. He had some information about cybernetic motion senses that I was really quite interested in, but I could barely focus. I just kept staring at his hair, truly the worst styling I’ve seen anywhere on the Outer Rim…”

He went on, and Juno found himself relaxing back into the pillows. He closed his good eye and let the words seep into his mind and carry him away from his intrusive thoughts. They didn’t disappear, it wasn’t that simple, but they quieted a little. He was still crying, but his hitched breaths didn’t feel like they were clawing their way from his chest anymore.

“… and then I thought he was going to throw the whole jug of wine at me and that would have just ruined my jacket so I… Juno is this helping?” Nureyev sounded hesitant.

“Yes,” he managed, voice barely above a whisper, “your voice is real nice, Nureyev. Like honey and whiskey mixed together.”

“That doesn’t sound very attractive as a combination,” Nureyev laughed gently, “but I appreciate the sentiment.”

Juno hummed, the release of his emotions having been followed by a wave of fatigue.

“Do you want me to keep going?” Nureyev ventured, “Or can you tell me what’s wrong now?”

Tear tracks sticky on his face, he felt he owed the man an explanation. “It was a bad day. I missed a shot again. Someone died because I couldn’t make the shot.” He tried to say it without inflection, but his voice cracked halfway through.

“Oh, my dear. I’m sorry. The next case will be better,” he comforted.

Juno curled into himself, “It’s not just a one off. It’s every single time since I lost my eye. I can’t shoot anymore. It was the one thing I could do and now I’m _useless_.” He spat out the last word.

“Juno Steel,” Nureyev murmured, “you have never been and will never be useless. You’re going through a rough patch right now, and it’s okay to have bad days.”

“Most people’s bad days don’t result in innocent people dying.” Juno argued, voice watery.

“No, that’s true, most don’t,” the thief allowed, “but you will never be lumped into ‘most people.’ You are doing your best Juno, and I know that doesn’t feel like enough, I know you want to be better. But you are _trying_and that is so much more than I can say for most people, myself included sometimes.”

Juno sniffled, “You always seem to know what to say. It’s kind of infuriating.”

Nureyev laughed, “I’m glad you think so. Are you feeling any better?”

“Yeah, I… Wait. Nureyev why did you even call? You have a heist to pull off, you should be focusing on figuring out how not to get caught, not consoling emotional detectives. Damn it, I’m distracting you.”

“You are doing no such thing.” Nureyev said firmly. “I choose how to spend my time, and in my modest opinion, there is nothing else I’d rather be doing. I wanted to talk to you before I had to go radio-silent for a while.”

“See if your saying that when I have to come break you out of jail because you’ve gotten yourself caught,” Juno grumbled.

“You’d break me out? Oh, Juno, I’m blushing.” Nureyev sounded utterly delighted by the thought.

“That’s not what I – ugh,” Juno sighed, “I’m too tired for this.”

Nureyev’s voice softened, “Then rest, we’ll talk in the morning.” There was a rustling sound over the line.

“What are you doing? You’re not doing the heist right now, are you?” Juno said suspiciously, before yawning. His tears had mostly stopped, the occasional one still creeping down his cheeks, but his chest know longer felt cracked open and exposed.

“Rest assured, I am not,” he said, but didn’t elaborate, “sleep now, dear.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Juno’s eyes slipped close, “Thanks honey,” he mumbled and if Nureyev said anything more, he didn’t hear it because sleep had already swept in and stolen him away.

Juno woke up the next morning with his head aching and eyes gritty from the dehydration of crying the night before. For all intents and purposes, it should be a terrible morning. But it wasn’t.

A gentle hand was carding through his curls, alleviating the pain just a little. Juno rubbed at his eyes and blinked into the early morning light. He was still curled up on his bed in yesterday’s clothes. Beside him was a pair of legs encased in tight black pants, with little rips styled along the thighs. Juno knew those pants. More importantly, he knew the man who was wearing them.

“Nureyev? What -” His voice came out rough and unsteady and he coughed a little.

The hand lifted from his hair and returned a second later with a glass of water.

“Drink up, dear. You can talk afterwards.” The man said.

Juno grabbed the glass with a clumsy hand and tipped it towards his mouth. Nureyev cupped a hand under his neck to help him and his eyes pricked all over again at the tender gesture. He finished the glass and Nureyev pulled it away; Juno head the clink of it being sat down on the bedside table.

Juno wanted to sit up, but Nureyev stopped him, only rearranging him until his head was resting on the man’s warm thighs and the hand returned to combing through his hair. The thief was leaning back against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him. Juno rolled until he could catch his eyes.

He was fully dressed, minus his coat that Juno spotted hanging over a nearby chair along with a discarded bag. His shirt was tight-fitting and black, clinging to his shoulders and the slope of his waist. His pants were likewise black. He was mostly bereft of jewellery too; it was the least colourful Juno had ever seen him, save that time he hadn’t been wearing anything at all. It was almost like he was dressed in an effort not to be noticed.

“The heist,” Juno realised, “why are you here? You should be halfway across the galaxy stealing some old Pharaoh’s necklace or something. Did you get it?”

Nureyev was smiling down at him, “I didn’t go on the heist.” His hands scratched down Juno’s scalp and it sent tingles down his spine. It felt so nice it almost distracted him from the man’s statement. Almost, but not quite.

“You didn’t – _What? _Why not? You had been planning that for weeks. I… It was because of me wasn’t it?” Juno released, “Shit, I’m sorry.”

Nureyev shushed him gently, “Don’t be. I simply decided there was somewhere I needed to be more. Someone I needed to be with.” Dark circles were painted under his eyes, and Juno did the mental calculations.

“You must have travelled all night to get here,” Juno said, “You just dropped everything, your whole plan, everything, just for me?”

The man hummed. “What’s a silly necklace compared to knowing that you were here, upset, and I was halfway across the galaxy unable to do anything about it. Of course, I dropped everything. I know this may surprise you, dear, but I would rather lose out on a thousand treasured items then spend one moment living with the knowledge that you were hurting, and I didn’t do anything about it.”

Juno buried his face in the soft material covering Nureyev’s stomach, not able to look at him. “I’m not that important. You don’t have to do that,” he mumbled.

“I know I don’t have to, and that’s precisely why I want too.” Nureyev stroked down the back of his neck and Juno shivered.

There were not enough words in all of the universe to describe how much Juno felt like he didn’t deserve that man. But Juno was trying to be better, and that meant not pushing people away just because the man’s touch made his nerves sing, and his voice made his heart pound. Instead of trying to push him away for once, Juno sat up and pulled him closer. Face buried in the man’s neck, arms tightly wound around him. Nureyev wrapped his own arms around him in return, and Juno felt a kiss to his temple.

“I still think you shouldn’t have come,” Juno admitted, “but thank you.”

“Anytime, love.” Nureyev said. Juno couldn’t help but think he really meant it too.

Juno pulled back just enough that he could see Nureyev’s face without having to pull his arms away. Even tired and weary from travel, his light still shined as bright as ever. Juno trailed his hand down the side of his face, fingers catching on the bare beginnings of stubble. Juno had never seen him less than clean shave before; he really had rushed here without a second thought.

His eye caught on Nureyev’s lips and stayed there, so close and so tempting. Since their reunion, they had both agreed to take it slow. Painfully slow. To the point where they hadn’t kissed once, even with all of the time they had spent together. It had been a source of relief and frustration for both of them. Relief to find out that they were compatible beyond the sexual aspect, yet endlessly frustrating due to the fact they already knew they were incredibly well-matched in that regard.

Juno swallowed, “Nureyev I want –”

Nureyev leaned forward, and he could feel the other’s breath against his lips, “Me too, Juno.”

Juno wasn’t sure which one of them closed the distance. Their mouths met in a sweet kiss, a simple pressing of lips, perfectly innocent and filled with all of the things Juno couldn’t bring himself to say. They pulled back to breathe and then met again, a little less innocent this time and just as good as they both remembered.

“I’ve missed this,” Juno admitted, when they finally parted.

“So, have I,” Nureyev said, kissing Juno’s cheek.

Juno curled up deeper in the man’s arms, “You know, you never finished that story you were talking about last night. Something about the market stall seller wanting to throw wine on you?”

The thief chuckled, “It seems I didn’t. Well, if you really want to know, it was a whole mess after that. I have no idea why he had so _many_jugs of wine and why he was so willing to throw them at strangers. That can’t be a very good business model. Well anyway, I dodged the first jug and then he said…”

Juno closed his eyes and breathed in the familiar scent that he felt so endeared too. Here, in Nureyev’s arms, listening to him talk, and knowing that this man cared about him, Juno felt like he might be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> So far this series is just Peter and Juno crying while lying down. I'll try and work on that lol. Though I have any part of this series written for later than involves them lying down, but no crying is happening at least ;)
> 
> Anyway I'm having fun with this series, and I hope you guys are having fun reading it.


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